


Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

by AuroraAustralis



Series: Harry Potter and the Second Chance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Resorting, Slytherin Harry Potter, alternative ending of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book 2)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraAustralis/pseuds/AuroraAustralis
Summary: After Fawkes appeared in the Chamber of Secrets with the Sorting Hat and Harry lowered it onto his head his world is going to change. He does not know if Hogwarts can remain his sanctuary or if it will change into hell just like number four, Privet Drive. Why did something like this always happens to him - a Resorting???





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter. All characters, places or spells mentioned in the Harry-Potter-Series I use in this fanfiction belong to J. K. Rowling.  
> The first chapter of this fanfiction contains many quotes from Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I just indicated the first quote in this chapter to clarify the point where this fanfiction starts. However, with the next chapters I will try to quote less and less but for the start and the defeat of the Basilisk it was necessary.

The Basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry’s arms. Harry seized it. It was all he had left, his only chance. He rammed it onto his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the Basilisk’s tail swung over him again.

“Help me … help me …” Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the Hat. “Please help me!”

\---- End of quotation from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Chapter 17) ----

 

And like the previous two times Harry heard a small voice in his ear, “Nice to see you again after your rather abrupt demeanour the last time. You know you could possibly establish a record considering how often I was already lowered onto your head. Normally, I meet every person just once in their lifetime on their first day at Hogwarts but we already met thrice. However, nothing about you seems to go the normal way, doesn’t it?”

In addition to the small voice of the Sorting Hat, Harry also heard Riddle screaming attempting to order the Basilisk to continue his attack on Harry. Currently the Basilisk was still confused and distracted because of Fawkes.

“In many ways you are a Gryffindor to the core, you are brave and daring. Yes, yes … but there is more. You are loyal and despite your fame and the circumstances of your childhood you are remarkably just and kind. Furthermore, you are not the most diligent student but if you want to achieve a goal you are willing to learn and to find an avenue which will lead you to your designated target even if some of your approaches are rather unusual. And at the end you are also determined, ambitious and although you would risk your life to safe those you value, you are self-preservative due to your life experience. Yes, like I already said twice you would fit perfectly in Slytherin and everyone expects a Parselmouth to be in Slytherin, even Salazar Slytherin himself would expect someone with your talent in his own house.”

Whilst Harry listened to the Sorting Hat he likewise tried to listen to the sounds of the Basilisk which was still distracted but Fawkes would not be able to distract it forever. The moment Harry had lowered the Sorting Hat on his head he was desperate, he had hoped that somehow the Sorting Hat would have been able to help him in this desperate situation. Now, minutes later, Harry’s desperation increased and he muttered, “Are you able to help me or will you just talk until the Basilisk kills me?”.

“I will help you but first you must understand something important. Your first encounter with a member of the House of Salazar Slytherin was during the murder of your parents. The second time you met someone related to Slytherin gave you no reason to revaluate your opinion towards this house. Nevertheless, in the emerging time you will have to learn to see behind the curtain and to reconsider some of your previous opinions. One day it could be crucial to you. You were sorted into Gryffindor but you have to understand that everybody has different traits and therefore everyone embodies certain traits of each house. The Sorting only tries to place every student in a house in which he is most likely to fit in the best. However, such a decision is never the only one possible because more than a few students could fit in more than just one house. In the end it is nothing more than a fair prediction. Therefore, fights between houses and an increasing feud are no desirable aim of the Sorting. You may compete amicable but you should never view students of other houses as enemies just because of their house affiliation. Now I am going to help you.”

Nearly at the same time as those words were spoken the Hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly and something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry’s head. The impact almost knocked him out and Harry felt dizzy for a moment. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he thought the Sorting Hat had screamed one last word before it became silent again. Harry grabbed the top of the Hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it. Still a bit dizzy Harry recognised the object as a gleaming silver sword, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

The help just arrived in time because the Basilisk no longer targeted Fawkes but lunged blindly for Harry. Harry raised the sword in both his hands and the next time the Basilisk lunged, he threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth. Seconds later he felt a searing pain in his arm because of one long, poisonous fang which was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and splintered as the Basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Harry slid down the wall and gripped the poisonous fang to remove it but the white-hot pain was already spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. His vision went foggy for the second time this evening and he almost did not see Fawkes landing beside him. Harry wanted to thank Fawkes for his help but the poison prevented any attempt to communicate, he was not able to think clearly anymore. Therefore, he did not notice what happened around him nor was he able to understand what Riddle told him. He could hear the sound of a human voice but he could not understand the particular words.

Harry just noticed the pain leaving him. And then the chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Harry gave his head a little shake and there was Fawkes, resting his head on Harry’s arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound – except that there was no wound anymore. Harry still felt a bit dizzy but at the same time it felt like his strength was returning. He could hear Riddle screaming something at Fawkes and after he pointed Harry’s wand at the bird, Fawkes took flight again.

Harry could hear Riddle muttering something about phoenix tears and then his own wand was directed against him. Before Harry had time to panic, Fawkes returned and dropped something into Harry’s lap – the diary. For a split-second Riddle and Harry just stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though it was the obvious decision, Harry seized the poisonous fang and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

The moment the fang pierced the book, a long and dreadful scream sounded in the chamber. Ink spurted out of the diary and Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then… gone. The only sound perceptible was a clatter caused by Harry’s wand which fell to the floor. Still shaking Harry gathered his wand, the Sorting Hat and the retrieved sword.

A faint moan from the other side of the chamber reminded him of Ginny lying there. Harry hurried towards her and Ginny sat up. After she was able to survey the chamber, she started to apologize and to ramble. Harry tried his best to reassure her that everything was alright.

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the chamber entrance. Harry urged Ginny forward and after they left the chamber, the stone doors closed behind them with a soft hiss. They walked in the dark tunnel and after a while they heard someone shifting rocks.

“Ron!” Harry yelled. “Ginny’s OK! I’ve got her!” Ron’s response was a strangled cheer and after the next bend they could see him through the sizeable gap he had managed to make. Ron’s face and red hair were covered with grey dust like Harry was completely covered in grey dust and red blood.

“Ginny!” Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull Ginny through. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened?” Ron tried to comfort Ginny but she held him off and was just sobbing.

Whilst Fawkes led them the way back to the mouth of the pipe Ron inquired about the bird and the sword which Harry still held in his hands. Harry just promised him to answer his questions once they would be out of there and instead Ron told him what happened to Lockhart. Harry could not say he was terribly sorry for what had happened after Lockhart had already tried to obliviate them twice this evening.

However, at the moment they had other problems to solve – like returning to earth’ surface. “Have you thought how we are going to get back up this?” Harry asked Ron while he looked up the long, dark pipe. Ron negated but Fawkes was fluttering in front of him and was waving his long golden tail feathers. First Harry seemed uncertain but remembering that Fawkes was no normal bird he told the others to hold on to each other and then Harry took hold of Fawkes’ tail feathers. The second he touched those feathers Harry felt incredible light and they were flying upwards through the pipe. The ride did not seem to last any time at all and soon they were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom again.

The sink covering the pipe was sliding back in place and Myrtle googled at them. “You’re alive,” she said blankly to Harry. Harry frowned and stated “There is no need to sound so disappointed.” After this statement the ghost was actually blushing – even if she turned silver instead of red. “Oh, well … I’d just been thinking. If you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet,” Myrtle said before she vanished into the sink behind them.

“Urgh!” said Ron, as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. “Harry! I think Myrtle’s got fond of you! You’ve got competition, Ginny!” Despite Ron’s teasing Ginny still cried silently.

“Where now?” said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed at Fawkes who was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry knocked and pushed the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter! It would be great if you would leave some Kudos and/or Comments. Until next time!  
> I hope the next chapter is finished and posted until the end of the week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this chapter is again partly copied from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (although this time it's Chapter 18 - Dobby's Reward).  
> I am sorry but I promise the next chapter will contain more of my own words.

For a moment, there was just silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry’s case) blood. Harry’s robes were the worst and because of the slime and blood it would have been nearly impossible to identify their original colours if you had not known them already.

Then there was a scream. _“Ginny!”_ It was Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Though Professor Dumbledore beamed at them and seemed in no sense to be shocked like Professor McGonagall was, Harry thought he might have seen a flicker of mild shock followed by curiosity and astonishment in the headmaster’s eyes after the headmaster had surveyed him. The moment in which Harry thought to see these emotions in those blue eyes was very brief and therefore Harry was uncertain if he really had seen it or just imagined everything. Now, Fawkes went whooshing past Harry’s ear and settled on Dumbledore’s shoulder, just as Harry found himself and Ron being swept into Mrs Weasley’s tight embrace. “You saved her! You saved her! _How_ did you do it?”

“I think we’d all like to know that,” said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs Weasley let go of Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword and what remained of Riddle’s diary. Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: he told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realised that he was hearing a Basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the Forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the Basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

“Very well,” Professor McGonagall prompted him, as he paused, “so you found out where the entrance was – breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add – but how on _earth_ did you all get out of there alive, Potter?”

So, Harry, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes’ timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Riddle’s diary – or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs Weasley’s shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? Harry thought in panic. Riddle’s diary didn’t work anymore… How could they prove it had been he who’d made her do it all?

Instinctively, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his halfmoon spectacles. “What interests _me_ most,” said Dumbledore gently, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.” Relief – warm, sweeping, glorious relief – swept over Harry.

“W-what’s that?” said Mr Weasley in a stunned voice, “ _You-know-who?_ En-enchant _Ginny?_ But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?”

“It was this diary,” said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. “Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen” And for the second time Harry thought there was a flicker of some strange emotions in Dumbledore’s eyes – insight, revulsion and then… _confirmation?_

Dumbledore took the diary form Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages. “Brilliant”, he said softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.

“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… travelled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst sort of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”

“But Ginny,” said Mrs Weasley, “what’s our Ginny got to do with – with – _him_?” “His d-diary!” Ginny sobbed. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year- “

“ _Ginny!_ ” said Mr Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself _if you can’t see where it keeps its brain_. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was _clearly_ full of Dark Magic!”

“I d-didn’t know” sobbed Ginny. “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it…”

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away,” Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she, have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” He strode over to the door and opened it. “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,” he added, twinkling kindly down at her. “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice – I dare say the Basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment.”

“So, Hermione’s OK” said Ron brightly. “There has been no lasting harm done,” said Dumbledore. Mrs Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

“Well, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall while glancing briefly at Harry, “Might I ask you to go and find Severus and bring him to my office? I will join up with both of you soon. There is something we will need to discuss and it is import that both of you are in attendance.”

“Right,” said Professor McGonagall crisply and a bit confused but nevertheless she moved to the door. “I’ll leave you to deal with Potter and Weasley, shall I?” “Certainly,” said Dumbledore. She left, and Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, _deal_ with them? Surely – _surely_ – they weren’t about to be punished?

“I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,” said Dumbledore. Ron opened his mouth in horror. “Which goes to show that even the best of us must sometimes eat our words,” Dumbledore went on, smiling when the two students in front of him visibly relaxed after those words. “You both did something extraordinary tonight and did not just safe the school but rather more important - the students.” Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart’s Valentine flowers and closed his mouth again.

“But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure,” Dumbledore added. “Why so modest, Gilderoy?” Harry gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Ron said quickly, “there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart- “

“Am I a Professor?” said Lockhart in mild surprise. “Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?”

“He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,” Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore. “Dear me,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. “Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!”

“Sword?” said Lockhart dimly. “Haven’t got a sword. That boy has, though.” He pointed at Harry. “He’ll lend you one.”

“Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the hospital wing, too?” Dumbledore said to Ron. “I’d like a few more words with Harry…” Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curios look back at Dumbledore and Harry as he closed the door.

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. “Sit down for a moment, Harry,” he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably nervous. “First of all, Harry, I want to thank you,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.” He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.

“I wondered if the Sorting Hat told you something while he helped you to retrieve this sword?” Dumbledore asked while he was still watching him. “Well,” Harry started to answer, “when I lowered the Hat onto my head, he told me some things. About the Sorting and how he decides where to sort a person. But I don’t really understand why he told me all that. And then…” Harry stopped for a moment before continuing, “well, you see at the end, he spoke about the connections between the different houses and…” At this point Harry trailed of, unsure what to say next. Dumbledore smiled at him and said, “I would imagine the Sorting Hat told you the houses should approach each other instead of fighting each other?”

Harry nodded, “Yes sir, but there was also something else… and with everything that happened… and now he told me for the third time…”, Harry trailed off because he was too afraid to complete his rambling. What if the Sorting Hat had been right all the time? Harry thought. It was true that he could speak to snakes and everyone thought it was a sign that he would become a dark wizard, maybe he _should_ be in Slytherin – after all nearly everyone had already suspected him to be the heir of Slytherin. Before Harry could finish this chain of thought Dumbledore spoke again, “Harry, what is bothering you? Is there anything more the Hat told you?”

Harry did not know how to answer this question but he decided he needed to talk about this with someone. The last time he just kept everything to himself resulted in Ginny being abducted into the Chamber of Secrets. If he had told Professor Dumbledore about this disembodied voice maybe they could have stopped the attacks earlier. After all Ginny’s survival was more or less a lucky coincidence and everything could have gone wrong considering they were just students and in no way qualified to hunt a Basilisk down. And there was no way he could talk to Ron about him nearly being sorted into Slytherin – Ron would detest him and most likely ignore him for the rest of his life. No, he couldn’t do that, Ron was his first friend and he didn’t desire to lose him because of something that never even happened.

Harry hadn’t realized but he was no longer facing Dumbledore. Now with the intention to tell Dumbledore everything the Sorting Hat had told him, Harry faced him again and before he could decide otherwise blurted out, “The Hat wanted to place me in Slytherin. He always keeps telling me that I would do great there. But at the Sorting, I, well…, sort of convinced him to place me in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. And nevertheless, he doesn’t stop telling me about Slytherin and… I don’t know what to do with this. I mean this schoolyear everyone thought _I_ am the heir of Slytherin and… I mean I can speak Parseltongue and I know, well, Ron told me that Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth and Voldemort is one as well and…” Harry tailed off again, feeling ashamed. What if the headmaster now also thought he would become a dark wizard like all the other students assumed? Well, obviously he was not the heir of Slytherin but still…

Dumbledore cleared his throat slightly and Harry looked in his eyes and was just glad that he could see no disgust or distrust there. Maybe everything would go back to normal – after all _he_ had defeated Slytherin’s monster. Dumbledore opened his mouth to response to Harry but in this moment the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering under his arm, heavily wrapped in bandages, was _Dobby_. “Good evening, Lucius,” said Dumbledore pleasantly. Mr Malfoy swept into the room and Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face. “So!” said Lucius Malfoy, his cold eyes fixed on Dumbledore. “You’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts.”

“Well, you see, Lucius,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too. They said they just agreed to suspend me because you convinced them I was handling the situation wrong and if I was gone everything would go back to normal. But after today’s attack it seems like they have changed their opinion again.”

Mr Malfoy went paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury. “So – have you stopped the attacks yet?” he sneered. “Have you caught the culprit?”

“We have,” said Dumbledore, with a smile. “ _Well?_ ” said Mr Malfoy sharply. “Who is it?”

“The same person as last time, Lucius,” said Dumbledore. “But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.” He held up the small black book with the large hole trough the centre, watching Mr Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby. The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

“I see…” said Mr Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore. “A clever plan,” said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr Malfoy straight in the eye. “Because if Harry here- “, Mr Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look, “and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why – Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…” Mr Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly mask-like.

“And imagine,” Dumbledore went on, “what might have happened then… The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…” Mr Malfoy forced himself to speak. “Very fortunate,” he said stiffly.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head. And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

“Don’t you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr Malfoy?” said Harry. Lucius Malfoy rounded on him. “How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?” he said. “Because you gave it to her,” said Harry. “In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book, and slipped the diary inside it, didn’t you?” He saw Mr Malfoy’s white hands clench and unclench. “Prove it,” he hissed.

“Oh, no one will be able to do that,” said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. “Not now Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…”

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right-hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf. “We’re going, Dobby!” He wrenched open the door, and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him. “Professor Dumbledore,” he said hurriedly, “can I give that diary _back_ to Mr Malfoy, please?”

“Certainly, Harry,” said Dumbledore calmly. “But hurry. I want you to return because we still have to continue our conversation.” Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby’s squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs. “Mr Malfoy,” he gasped, skidding to a halt, “I’ve got something for you.” And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy’s hand. “What the-?” Mr Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. “You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter,” he said softly and pushed the diary back into Harry’s hand. “They were meddlesome fools, too.” He turned to go.

“Come, Dobby. I said, _Come!_ ” But Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock, and locking back at it as though it was a priceless treasure. “Master has given Dobby a sock,” said the elf in wonderment. “Master gave it to Dobby.”

“What’s that?” spat Mr Malfoy. “What did you say?”

“Dobby has got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – Dobby is free.” Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry. “You’ve lost me my servant, boy!”

But Dobby shouted, “You shall not harm Harry Potter!” There was a loud bang, and Mr Malfoy was thrown backwards. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long threatening finger. “You shall go now,” he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr Malfoy. “You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.” Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

“Harry Potter freed Dobby!” said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. “Harry Potter set Dobby free!”

“Least I could do, Dobby,” said Harry, grinning. “Just promise never to try and save my life again.” The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile. “I’ve just got one question, Dobby,” said Harry, as Dobby pulled on Harry’s sock with shaking hands. “You told me all this had nothing to do with He Who Must Not Be Named, remember? Well- “

“It was a clue, sir,” said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. “Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?”

“Right,” said Harry weakly. “Well, I’d better go. Professor Dumbledore told me to return to Professor McGonagall’s office and my friend Hermione should be awake by now. Maybe I can see her after I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore.” Dobby threw his arms around Harry’s middle and hugged him. “Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!” he sobbed. “Farewell, Harry Potter!” And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

Harry turned around and returned to Professor McGonagall’s office and through the ajar door he heard a loud crack like the one Dobby made when he appeared or disappeared. Seconds later Professor Dumbledore exited with the Sorting Hat and the sword in his hands and when he saw Harry a small smile appeared on his lips. “Now, Harry, after you have returned, I would like you to come to my office with me. There is something we still have to address. And afterwards you can go the hospital wing and with a bit of luck Miss Granger will already be awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter! Of course Dumbledore is the first one to realise something major changed down in the Chamber of Secrets. But some of the others will learn it in the next chapter - including Harry.  
> It would be great if you would leave some Kudos and/or Comments. Until next time!  
> I hope the next chapter is finished next week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this chapter contains just some short quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and one from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.  
> I am sorry I was not able to update in such a long time but first I went on holiday and then I had to deal with some personal issues. I will probably be able to update more regular now but I cannot promise anything.

Professor Dumbledore led Harry all the way from Professor McGonagall’s office to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster’s quarters. With a muttered “Ice Mice” the gargoyle sprang aside and the spiral staircase was accessible through the developing split in the wall. Exactly like the last time the staircase was moving smoothly upwards and both Professor Dumbledore and Harry stepped onto it. Shortly before they reached the top of the stairs Harry heard two hushed voices through the gleaming oak door with the griffon-shaped brass knocker.

Harry wondered briefly who could be in the headmaster’s office, after all Dumbledore had just returned a few hours ago. As Dumbledore opened the door Harry was able to recognize Professor McGonagall’s voice, “… few more minutes, Severus.” Now, he remembered Professor Dumbledore asking McGonagall to fetch Snape and wait with him in his office – even if it seems like Snape had no desire to wait there any longer for Dumbledore. At the same time Harry wondered why Dumbledore brought him along, after all they could have continued their conversation in Professor McGonagall’s office. Now, he probably had to wait until the headmaster had talked to the other two Professors – because there was no way he would speak to Dumbledore about his concerns in front of _Snape_ of all people.

“Now, I am glad that you are both here and we can settle everything,” Dumbledore said while he entered his office. Both Professors turned around after hearing those words. While Professor McGonagall’s eyes held concern when her gaze fell on Harry, Snape just ignored him after glaring at him and therby expressing his disdain. But then he returned his attention to Dumbledore, “Shouldn’t Pomona and Filius also be in attendance when you wish to settle something with us? Minerva told me that Miss Weasley was rescued and the students are no longer in any danger.”

“Yes, that is right, Severus. The school and far more important - its occupants - are no longer in danger. Therefore, there is no need to close the school nor to send the students home tomorrow. They can all remain at Hogwarts until the end of the term. Do you already know what exactly happened in the Chamber of Secrets?” After Snape negated with a short shake of his head, Professor Dumbledore continued, “Very well, there will be another time to fill you in the exact details of this evening. But for tonight, I just want to bring one cause to your attention. And as it only concerns you and Minerva immediately there is no reason for either Pomona or Filius to be present. However, I have already notified them that the danger was averted and the school will resume but like yourself, Severus, they don’t know the details yet. At the moment they are probably speaking to the members of their houses, something the two of you will have to do later.”

“Now, the matter at hand” Dumbledore said while he placed the Sorting Hat on the shelf behind his desk and laid the sword on said desk. “Why don’t we all sit down for a moment?” Dumbledore continued and pointed at three squashy chairs he had conjured in front of his desk with a flick of his wand. Professor McGonagall chose the nearest chair which happened to be the right one, whereas Snape remained standing. Snape only glared at Dumbledore, “I have to inform my house about the new occurrences and their consequences. Therefore, I would appreciate it, headmaster, if you could come down to business - as it does not seem to be particularly confidential or important if you intend to let Potter attend this. Preferentially before you deal with Potter and whatever he had been up to again.”

“Now, Severus,” Dumbledore responded while he sat down in his chair behind the desk. “I would gladly start to inform you about some of today’s occurrences if you allow me to begin. But first I would appreciate it if you and Mr Potter could take your seats. The matter at hand concerns all three of you and therefore all of you should be attentive.” Harry sat down after those words, wondering what of today’s happenings required Snape’s attendance as the man was not his Head of House nor had he any more sway over him than any of the other teachers except of Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. During those contemplations he had chosen the chair in the middle for himself because thus he would not only sit nearby Snape but also close to McGonagall who could hopefully prevent any more of Snape’s spiteful remarks, since after today’s events he was not sure if he was able to stand Snape’s usual vile demeanour towards him this evening.

Snape however, remained standing and the chair to Harry’s left stayed vacant. “Very well,” Professor Dumbledore started, eyeing Harry, “Harry, I know we were discussing something which troubles you before we were unfortunately interrupted. I would like for us to continue this conversation now.” Dumbledore stopped talking after seeing the horror and fear his statement had caused the young boy in front of him. Harry’s eyes were practically pleading with the headmaster to not pursue this conversation now. Dumbledore sighed silently before speaking more gently, “Harry, I know you do not want to speak about this now. And most probably not in these surroundings. But… after what happened today, I do not believe we have any chance to postpone this any further or discuss it in another situation where you would be more comfortable.” While McGonagall’s quizzical gaze flickered between Harry and Professor Dumbledore, Harry himself was shell-shocked and could only stare at Dumbledore. Therefore, he did not really pay attention to Snape’s behaviour but thought the man looked rather irritated.

“Harry, I… well, I believe our current situation has not occurred for a long time and its incurrence itself is rather unique and it will probably take some time before everyone is able to come to terms with the changes.” Harry was still feeling numb because of his shock after Dumbledore’s announcement to discuss his fears in front of _Snape_ of all people. But now… he could not really follow the headmaster. What changes was he talking about? He had killed the Basilisk but what else had he done that could have caused something to change? Because _somehow_ , he thought this was not immediately related to the Basilisk’s death. And there was something else… like he _should_ have been able to remember something important had happened… but he could not determine what he was missing, even if his life would depend on this knowledge. It was like his subconscious suppressed some knowledge for some reason.

Dumbledore eyed Harry for a moment as if he tried to determine the best way to continue. “Harry, did you had the chance to have a look at your school uniform since you left the Chamber of Secrets?” Puzzled because of Dumbledore’s confusing words and change of subject Harry just answered, “Well, not really… there is a lot of blood but…”, he trailed of and eyed his tie. At a first glance everything was red, blood-red and Gryffindor-red, Harry thought but then… “No!”, Harry was too shocked to scream, therefore his denial was just whispered. It was almost impossible to lift his eyes but he had to know the truth – surely all of this was just some stupid joke. Because there was no way…

Finally, after he was able to lift his head and to look at Dumbledore again, he only saw compassion and sympathy in his eyes. Nothing which would suggest that everything was just a misunderstanding of some sort. Nothing which would reassure him. Instead his eyes darted back to his tie. Trying to figure out how this could have happened. Because _somehow_ his tie had changed colours. And he still could not understand how the hell that had happened. But as he continued to stare at his tie, trying to change its colour back to red with sheer willpower, something rose to the surface of his consciousness. One word, barely comprehensible at the time it was spoken because of his dizziness back then. But still, he could remember it know. And suddenly he wished Lockhart’s Obliviate-charm had not backfired. Because then he might not have heard this one word which shattered him. _“Slytherin.”_

*

He did not know how much time passed until he was able to perceive his surroundings again. For all he knew it could have been hours - or just a few seconds. But after a while he was able to hear McGonagall, she sounded rather distressed. And the headmaster said something, sounding more soothing. And there was Snape’s voice, he sounded… but no, he refused to bother himself with Snape at the moment.

“Harry, Harry, do you understand me?”, although those words seemed to struggle their way through an incredible thick mist and therefore sounded rather dull, Harry was able to hear and comprehend them. But still Dumbledore’s voice was not enough to pull him out of his current state of shock. He favoured this state of incredible numbness over the pain and despair he would feel once he would be able to truly apprehend what had happened anyway. But then other memories pushed their way back into his consciousness, following after the one that had already changed everything for him. It felt like this first memory triggered a sequence of more memories. Memories where Riddle told him that there were strange likenesses between the two of them. And then an even older one. Hagrid telling him something about the four houses at Hogwarts while they were in Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. _“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”_

But he did not want to be like that person he had met down in the Chamber of Secrets. He did not want to act in such a way. But why had the Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin then? Because there was no chance for him? Because one day he would go _“dark”_?

*

Even if he wanted to remain in this state of numbness forever, Harry felt his protection slipping slowly away. The sounds of his surroundings became clearer and he could actually hear the words which were spoken around him but at the moment he could not force himself to truly comprehend them. It was still far easier to just let everything wash over him. There was no reason to leave this still blissfully numb condition and face the harshness of reality.

But even if he wished to pretend he was still in his own world and secluded from outside influences, the slipping protection of the former numbness left room for other feelings. Feelings with which he did not want to deal at the moment. Frustration, sadness, separation, apprehension and resignation. And one other emotion. One emotion he could deal with at the moment because it did not leave him weak or vulnerable. One emotion he could concentrate on to suppress all the others. One emotion which was safe to act on because it was not targeted at himself. Rage.

Rage focused on those people who were responsible for the recent events. People whose actions had led to his Resorting. But not only people, but also the Sorting Hat itself. This damned old piece of cloth which could destroy a life with one word. Yes, it was Lockhart’s fault that he had to battle the Basilisk on his own and was desperate enough to depend on the Sorting Hat for some help. Yes, it was Dumbledore’s fault because Fawkes brought him the Sorting Hat. Yes, it was McGonagall’s fault because after what happened with the philosopher’s stone last year he could not have risked to ask for her help and be dismissed again, especially not if Ginny’s life was at risk. But in the end, it was the fault of the Sorting Hat. It decided that he should be resorted. It decided to end his wonderful time at Hogwarts, where he felt happy and accepted for the first time he could remember. Even if the whole school opposed him because he lost a large amount of points or they believed him to be Slytherin’s heir, for the first time in his life he had found friends. Friends who supported him and always stood in his corner regardless of whatever the rest of the school thought of him. Friends who were in Gryffindor.

If he was honest with himself that was the fact which bothered him the most. He could stand everything as long as he had his two best friends with him. But now? He was sorted into Slytherin. Not just Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, it would still be horrible but he could have coped because he knew that Ron and Hermione would have done their best to support him and he probably could have accustomed himself to his new house. But Slytherin? The house whose members tried to compromise him over and over because he does not agree with their discriminatory attitude. The people who despise him and his best friends because he brought their Dark Lord down and hate Ron and Hermione because they are against the discrimination against Muggle-borns or have the wrong set of parents. There was no way he could accustom himself to a house with such beliefs. And he had not even considered that he would be expected to share a dorm with Draco Malfoy and his goons or that Snape would be his new Head of House and therefore would be able to expel him like he always wanted.

No, his first thought was about Ron and Hermione and how they would react. He had to hope that they would understand that this mess was not his fault. After all he did not want anything of this. But Ron had always made it clear that he hated every Slytherin and although Hermione was not a person who was blinded by prejudice, she had enough experience with the Slytherin’s treatment of her because of her heritage. Still, he had to hope that they would support him regardless because the two of them were his first and best friends. And your best friends were supposed to stick together no matter what happened. After everything they already had experienced together he supposed they would support him none the less.

But the possibility alone that they would ditch and abandon him fuelled his rage. This nagging feeling of doubt and betrayal caused him to feel the want to lash out at those who were responsible for his current situation. And foremost this was, in his opinion, the Sorting Hat. He could tear him to shreds, or burn him until he was just a pile of ashes, or…

“It will not work.” Those words, completely impartial spoken and eerie matching to his thoughts, were the first to really pierce through his protection and to be completely comprehended. In shock to the accurate matching he looked around to identify their origin. His confusion must have been evident because the same voice continued. “Many have tried to accomplish what you seek at the moment and many will try in the future to accomplish what until now nobody has been able to achieve.” Those words were spoken with utter composure and like the speaker would have to fear nothing. This complete lack of emotion was rather awkward concerning the matter at hand, even considering the aggrieved party was just a hat, a highly sentient hat in this case.

“I have sorted many students since the founders of Hogwarts bewitched me to accomplish this duty. And I will sort more students in the years, decades and even centuries to come. There will always be those who believe I wronged them, deliberately or not. Those who believe I sorted them into the wrong house and did not consider the consequences they fear. Some students are easier to sort than others. Some know exactly where they want to go when I am lowered onto their head, others just wish to be sorted into any house because they fear to be sent back home. But still in the end it is my decision where everyone of you will go. I have seen into more minds and heads than you can possibly imagine and thereby I have seen more thoughts and most secret fears and wishes than you could comprehend.

Your sorting was something special, even back then. There were and always will be Hatstalls, those in whose cases it is not easy to predict where they will thrive best. But you, even if you embody traits which all of the founders sought, my first intention was perfect. It would have suited you decidedly. But your case was never ordinary but rather unique. To sort you in the house whose best-known former student wants to kill you and already tried to achieve his aim and thereby caused you a terrible loss. Your vigorous resistance did not help the matter at all. And at the end I decided to bend to your wish because of your rather unique situation I believed it would be for the best. But now, nearly two years later, I changed my opinion and adapted to the circumstances. At the time your sorting into Gryffindor was inevitable but now it is time to accept where you truly belong.”

While Harry was quiet throughout the whole speech of the Sorting Hat, something in which the attendant teachers participated without Harry actually realising, this last comment yanked him out of his stupor. Too close was it to his fears and Voldemort’s insinuations. Too close to just accept it without opposing it loudly.

“I could never… Slytherin is not like me… I am not dark and I will surely not start to spout those disgusting beliefs they are all keen to enunciate just because you think I am something like… like them. I could never do… do this.” Harry panted, still enraged about the Hat’s suggestions and not realising that he had jumped to his feet during his short outburst of rage. He was at a loss. How could the Sorting Hat imply that he would fit into Slytherin, he could never do something like this to his friends and family, especially Hermione and his mum. He did not care that Snape heard his rant and would surely punish him for it later, but he could not ignore the Hat’s insinuations that he would betray those most important to him in such a degrading way.

“Mr. Potter, calm yourself!” Professor McGonagall tried to intervene and stop his outburst. The headmaster remained silent but send a warning glance over Harry’s left shoulder. “Although this is all highly unusual, it seems as you are no longer in my house and we must discuss this new situation which none of us expected to emerge.” After those words Harry was still agitated but decided to sit down for the moment and try to calm down. After all Snape had not directed his usual scathing comments at him until now.

“Harry,” said Professor Dumbledore, “you already have told me that the Hat wanted to place you in Slytherin at your sorting before we were interrupted rather abruptly. And while I understand that this Resorting is a disturbing development for you, it is nothing you have to fear. Slytherin as well as the other houses has his own unique history and even if I have to admit that your impressions of Slytherin house have not been pleasant so far, you cannot continue to oppose the rest of your new house for the remainder of five years due to them. You need to be open-minded and willing to bridge differences.”

Harry stared at the headmaster in disbelief. “Professor Dumbledore, you cannot expect that I will become acquainted with those who ridicule my friends and me at every turn and hate us because we do not share their discriminatory beliefs. There is no way I will spout their beliefs just to placate them. They will probably be too happy to have me alone down in the dungeons to ridicule and attack me instead of acquaint themselves with me,” ended Harry with a rather sneery laugh.

“Potter,” started Snape behind him but was stopped with a likewise harsh “Severus,” coming from the headmaster. Afterwards Dumbledore focused again on Harry, “Maybe we should talk about what seems to be bothering you the most. After all your sorting into Slytherin is valid, otherwise the colour of your school uniform would not have changed. The only way to revoke this sorting would be if the Sorting Hat would again sort you into a different house. Considering his conviction and the fact that a Resorting is a rare occurrence in itself, I believe there is nothing we can do to change your new house. You seem to think and fear that your Resorting into Slytherin will change who you are.” After Harry’s rather tentative nod, Dumbledore continued, “But you have to understand that your house does not define who you are. The circumstances in your life may have the power to shape or influence you but they will never solely define who you are. Far more important than the events thrown at us by life or destiny is how we react when we encounter them. Our own decisions are what ultimately define who we are, the small decisions we face everyday just as the more extensive ones.”

“But I cannot be sorted into Slytherin, I am not like him… Voldemort said that we are alike, that we… but I am nothing like him. I would never… He killed all those…,” Harry continued to ramble, not noticing that Snape inhaled rather sharply after he mentioned his encounter with Voldemort.

“No, Harry, you are nothing like him. You may share certain circumstances in life. Both of you are half-bloods, orphans and raised by muggles. Seldom circumstances but since the last wars regretfully not unique. More special is that both of you are Parselmouths. Not the only ones in history but I have to admit they are hard to find, nowadays even more so. But even this trait is not determining if you are alike or not. More import are again your own actions over your skills. It does not matter what you are able to do but rather what you decide to do with your capabilities. Voldemort would never have done what you have done tonight. You rescued the sister of your best friend because in your opinion it was the right choice. You did it regardless of the consequences because you have the ability to love and to empathise. Powers Voldemort does not have and will never understand because he treats them with contempt. And if you still doubt me, I suggest you look more closely at _this_.” Dumbledore picked the still blood-stained silver sword up from his desk and handed it to Harry.

Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt. _Godric Gryffindor._

“Only someone with true intentions could have pulled that out of the Hat, Harry,” said Dumbledore simply. “Godric Gryffindor left his sword to the school and its students to help them in the time of great need and danger. Voldemort would never have been able to pull this out of the Hat. Even at your age he was already much to lost in his selfish striving for power.”

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Harry asked, “Why was he not stopped sooner if he was already killing people? My parents might be alive if someone had stopped him while he was at school.” Dumbledore sighed and seemed to ponder his answer. “Even as a young boy Riddle was very charismatic and able to influence other people in his favour. I fear that he was able to deceive many and even if I had my doubts concerning him, I was never able to prove his connection to the rather terrifying events which seemed to happen around him beyond doubt.”

“And, Professor, my… why am I a Parselmouth? What does it mean?” Dumbledore smiled slightly. “Harry, your ability to speak to snakes is nothing to worry about. While it is a scorned gift, you used it to help others. In the duelling club and from my understanding even down in the chamber. And how you acquired this rather seldom ability I do not know, even so I have an idea. Yes, you can speak Parseltongue, Harry, because Lord Voldemort – who is the last remaining lineal descendant of Salazar Slytherin – can speak Parseltongue. Unless I am much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I am sure…”

“Voldemort put a bit of himself in _me_?” Harry asked, thunderstruck. “But that means… he was right. If a part of him his in me then we are alike to some degree, not just alike but I contain something of him. So, the only reason the Hat always wanted to sort me into Slytherin is because he sensed that I contain something dark, that _I am_ dark and evil because of him.”

“No, Harry,” interrupted him Dumbledore, “the Sorting Hat wanted to sort you into Slytherin because you happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his handpicked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue… resourcefulness… determination… a certain disregard for the rules. And yet, even if Voldemort transferred some of his own powers to you that fateful night, those do not define you. The decision to venture down into the chamber this night was completely your own, like all your actions. Your sorting into Slytherin indicates nothing dark or evil. For one, the power itself is neither dark nor light, just the deed you try to accomplish with its support. And furthermore, not all Slytherins are evil. After Voldemort’s rise to power and his crimes many people who never supported him tend to forget that Voldemort represents not the whole of Slytherin. The house of Slytherin has originated many powerful and fine wizards, Merlin himself was one of those. And as not all Slytherins are evil, there are evil people who were not in Slytherin. Not every supporter of Voldemort was a Slytherin during his time at Hogwarts. Even if I have to admit that most of his supporters were Slytherins, he had and still has supporters whom I know of which were in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.”

After these words from Dumbledore, all of them remained silent. And even if a movement on Harry’s left side indicated that Snape wanted to say something, probably something scathing or insulting, a raised hand from Dumbledore stopped him. The headmaster looked rather thoughtful before he addressed Harry once again, this time gentler than before.

“I believe you should retire to the infirmary for now, after all today’s events were rather shocking and unexpected. With a bit of luck Miss Granger and the others have already received their potion and are no longer petrified. Furthermore, Madame Pomfrey will want to examine you after the Basilisk injected some of his venom, even if Fawkes was able to heal your wound. Anyway, it is too late to discuss the further implications of your Resorting this evening. As I know Madame Pomfrey, she will be adamant that you have to stay in the infirmary for some days. Therefore, there should be enough time to discuss everything with your new Head of House at another time. I am sure Professor Snape is agreeable, after all he wanted to inform his house of the occurrences and their consequences as soon as possible. I will accompany you to the infirmary, as I am sure Professor McGonagall wants to inform Gryffindor house about the news and I have to go to the owlery anyway to send a letter to the ministry – after all, we need our gamekeeper back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter! We saw how Harry reacted to the news and the only other person we really got to see was Dumbledore. The reason there was no outburst from Snape is because Dumbledore was there. And throughout all the books even Harry and his friends admit that Snape would not go against Dumbledore directly (for example the Quidditch match Snape referees). Therefore we have to wait until Snape and Harry are alone together to see how Snape will react.  
> If you still follow my story despite the time I have not updated it, I think you deserve to learn the other reason I was not able to update this story in such a long time. The reason is that I do not want to write a Dumbledore bashing story with this. (I am not against them but I did not want to write this story as a Dumbledore bashing story.) The problem which emerges with this decision is that Dumbledore has already done so many unbelievable stupid, thoughtless and dangerous things that I have problems to find a justifaction for them. But I will try my best to not alter the story before my fanfiction starts, even if I will change many things in Dumbledore's behaviour later. This problem is also the reason why I might have some problems in the future and will sometimes need more time to write the story to my satisfaction. I am already struggling with parts of book three but for now it is nothing which could not be solved.  
> It would be great if you would leave some Kudos and/or Comments. Until next time!  
> I hope the next chapter is finished sometime later this month.


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